Magnet
by randomlvr1
Summary: /"We're like magnets, Lovi." "Stop saying stupid things, Veneziano." "It's true! You're South and I'm North, but we always end up together. Just like magnets."/


_"We're like magnets, Lovi."_

_Romano looked away from the unsullied blue sky to give the brother he wish he didn't have a scathing look. His young teenaged eyes saw a short Italian boy, with features too similar to his own to simply overlook, smiling absentmindedly at him. He was too close, the adolescent Italian with fiery hazel eyes and tempers observed. There was barely two grass-blade lengths between their hands._

_Pulling away his lightly tanned hand away, Romano clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back against the soft verdant. "Stop saying stupid things, Veneziano," Romano said sourly. His scowled deepened. "And don't call me that. I'm Romano to you, brother or not."_

_"But Lovi, it's not stupid!" the younger Italian, by two physical years Romano figured, insisted. He leaned forward, over Romano's resting body, and gazed down at him with as much intensity as his tender features could handle. "It's true! You're South and I'm North, but we always end up together. Just like magnets."_

_The southern Italian flushed and, with a scowl still engraved deeply on his face, sat up again to scoot away from his brother. He spat, "It's because of my bastard of a boss, Spain! He thinks that I'll be happy spending time with you, but I'm not! It's your fault, too. You keep following me around, so what the hell can I do?"_

_"Do you really think that way?" Italy's eyes welled up with tears. They fell with his expression. "You're not happy with me? I thought you were, because being with you makes me happy. You're my fratello, giusto?"_

_"D-Dammit . . . "_

_In the fields around them, a wind brushed the grasses with an invisible hand. The winds came from a westerly direction, strange for this part of their country. With it, they brought a drifting cloud into the previously clear skies. It began to cross the sky lazily._

_"No, it's just . . . Merda! I don't know!"_

_Bristling, Romano ran an agitated hand through his hair. He had never had a brother before. (Hell, he'd never even had someone he could call friend!) Though Spain often told him stories of days before Grandfather Rome passed away where he and Italy would burn away entire days playing with each other, he didn't remember those times. And with all the time they had been spending together lately, Romano realized he didn't know what to do with a brother. How to act, how to feel, what to say . . . the whole situation pissed him off._

_Sneaking a glance at his brother's heartbroken fact, Romano resigned to himself begrudgingly. God dammit - he had to at least try to be a brother to a guy who so obviously already thought of him as one._

_"No, you don't really make me angry. I just hate this mess I feel like I'm in." Romano bit his tongue against any other grievances he bore, continuing with a forced levelness. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do with a . . . brother," he admitted meekly._

_Italy's face screwed up into one of concentration - tongue peeking out of a corner of his mouth and nose scrunched up. He finally said, "I don't know either."_

_"But families are supposed to love each other, right? We'll just start there! I love you, Lovi!"_

_Flushing, Romano brought his palm to his forehead in an exasperated slap. "You can't go around saying that, idiot!"_

_"But why?" Italy tipped his head to the side quizzically. "We're brothers, and brothers love each other. I love you, Lovi. Now, you say it!"_

_Romano opened his mouth to argue, but he closed it wordlessly. He had never heard anyone say that to him before. Why would he try to fight it? The words kind of felt . . . nice. Not that he'd ever tell his ditsy brother that._

_"No," the humbled Italian murmured weakly. He was looking off embarrassedly to the side and didn't catch Italy's lunge toward him until the arms wrapped around him tightly. He spluttered suddenly, trying to push the unfamiliar arms off of him._

_"That's alright, fratello. Even if you won't say it, I know you do!"_

_Suddenly disarmed of all malice, Romano let his arms fall to his side. He leaned in slightly into the embrace and was glad for once he had a brother. If brothers meant someone who loved you lastingly and gave acceptance regardless, Romano really wouldn't mind one._

_Smiling, the younger Italian pressed two kisses to his brother's cheeks and - hesitating - one to his lips. It was the Italian way, quite simply. What wasn't traditional, as far as the adolescent Italy knew, was the way his lips lingered and stayed. The way his brother didn't fight it. _

_But it was alright, wasn't it? Didn't brothers do this?_

_The lone cloud wandered to a spot in front of the sun's ray. Their open meadow was eclipsed into shade for a moment._

_

* * *

_

- - - - - - - - - - - - \ \ - - - - - - - - - - - -

* * *

Occupied with the lips he was caressing and ravaging, Romano did not hear the muffled heels clicking against tiled floor. Caught up in the ecstasy of being pushed against the wall, lips moving against his in rhythmic passion, Italy did not see a shadow fall upon the ground as someone rounded the corner.

They both heard the quiet gasp of shock over each other's rough breathing.

Romano stepped back, glaring at the blond Slavic nation that was gaping quietly at them. Italy tried to step back, but he was already backed into the corner. He could only bite his swollen lip and block the tears with his dissolving will.

Stepping forward, ignoring his brother's swimming eyes, Romano fixed the other's rumpled shirt and buttoned the top three buttons (the ones _he'd_ undone) roughly. "Damn it, you really need to take better care of yourself, _fratello_."

The older Italian glanced over his shoulder, trembling fingers faltering for a moment. He glowered at the sudden disapproving scowl pulling down on Poland's mouth, as if daring him to point out the lie. Without a word, which meant just a badly for the Italian brothers, Poland turned on his heel and left in the direction from where he came.

Romano stopped struggling with the last button and pressed his back to the wall perpendicular to the one he had been facing, and slid to the floor, cursing rapidly. Italy stopped trying to contain the sobs scratching at his instincts and throat, falling to his knees and muffling his own sobs with his brother's chest. Hands grabbed his shoulders, initially intending to push him away, but Romano relented and wrapped his arms the younger's heaving shoulders.

"Lovi," Italy struggled through his tight throat, "is our love _bad?_"

Romano shook his head slowly. "No, of course not," he assured his brother as well as himself. He tried to believe it thoroughly enough for the both of them.

Italy's shaking hand reached out for Romano's cheek, brushing it lightly. "Then why are you crying, too?"

As if he was assuaging the fears of a child, the older brother lifted up a begrudging corner of his mouth and brushed back the other's choppybrown hair to place a kiss there. He embraced his brother securely and nuzzled Italy's neck to hide the tears that gave away the truth. "Because _you're_ crying, dammit."

"Then I give up," the other whimpered, though the tightening fist on Romano's shirt seemed to say otherwise. "I don't want to make you angry, but I'll never stop crying. There's nothing I can do."

Romano shivered. He didn't like the sound of foreign despair rolling off the usually light-hearted nation's tongue.

- - - - - - - - - - - - \ \ - - - - - - - - - - - -

_"You'll, like, never believe what I just saw!" Poland enthused angrily as he burst through the doors of the convention room._

_A weary Lithuania sidled up to him and asked gently, "Was it those Prada shoes you wanted? I saw them, too. A very sweet attendant was wearing them and she-"_

_"No! This is more important than shoes!"_

_The jostling room settled immediately. Poland, who had never been known for a quiet voice, continued fervently, recounting his startling discovery. He ended with a passionate, "Isn't that, like, so messed up? Nasty, right?"_

_The room exploded into argument._

_"Mis hijos_ _would never do that!" a distraught Spain insisted to a steely Germany. "They are brothers by blood, and they know better than to-to do something like this! They're too innocent to do something so sinful!"_

_"I wouldn't worry about it, Spain. Poland must be making up bullocks again," England maintained. His expression was one of disapproval, but his eyes seemed reserved. "Or exaggerating. Brothers are brothers, and they will never be anything more. Italy was probably just being the affectionate klutz he is, hugging Romano or kissing his cheeks, and he must have misinterpreted it. That's all it is - a brotherly moment misinterpreted."_

_Most of the nations murmured their agreement. Across the U-shaped table, hidden by a group attacking the matter with their own opinions, one bespectacled nation looked down guiltily at his lap. His blue eyes were subdued and he didn't voice his opinions passionately like he might have before._

_"I think it's cute." Most of the nations turned in surprised to the serene Belarus. She conveyed no more emotion than her usual disposition did. "The love between siblings is the most pure and justified. They love each other in every way and forever. No matter what happens, that will remain." She rounded on her brother with a crazed grin, and Russia cowered behind his scarf in instinctual response. "__Isn't that right, brother?_ Love between siblings is the greatest, isn't it?"

_"Maybe we have it all wrong," Hungary guessed. Her apprehensive eyes examined her hands thoughtfully. "Feli would never do something like this unless . . . unless someone forced him to. And just how well do any of us know Romano?"_

_The voices in the room dropped to a rushed whisper. Everyone was listening._

_"Enough to know that he would do something as sick as this because he doesn't know how to handle his own temper," Hungary finished quietly._

_Voices escalated into their previous level of near-deafening noise again, except for a resigned Spain who sunk into his seat with his pained face in his hands and an emotionally simmering Hungary with her eyes trained on the door._

- - - - - - - - - - - - \ \ - - - - - - - - - - - -

The entire room fell silent when they stepped into the meeting room. They shouldn't have, but the Italy brothers entered the room together to simulate an air of normality. They understood their mistake the second two hundred pairs of eyes gauged them with silent accusation.

It didn't stay quiet for long, though. Just long enough for the brothers to walk to the table and find seats next to each other just like they did at every meeting before. But, unlike every meeting before, they were being scrutinized for something that they shouldn't have been guilty of,and the seats immediately next to them cleared. Huddles of nations sprung up, each one whispering fervently and sneaking harsh glances at the Italies. The largest group converged around Poland.

Almost instantly, the former seat of Seychelles that had been abandoned when Italy sat down next to her was filled by Hungary's cordial presence. She only had eyes for the younger Italian, naturally. For once, she seemed truly worried and maternal love sparkled in her eyes as she took Italy's face in her hands, studying him anxiously.

"Are you alright, Feli?" she whispered anxiously, tracing the red blotches on the Italian's freshly dried face. "If you have any problems, if _anyone_ is hurting you, you know that I'll help you, right? Don't be afraid-" She looked passed her adopted brother for a moment, locking gazes with Romano before her face went hard. "-to speak up if someone, even if it's someone you _thought_ you could trust, is making you do something you don't want to do. I'll make sure that person is _taken care_ of."

Hungary's gaze switched back to Italy, softening automatically as tears sprung back into her eyes, waiting for his numb nod before she encircled him in a tight embrace. She glared fierily at Romano, as only a woman could, and pulled away with a final smile to her precious Italy before retreating back to her own group. She continued to watch the Italian brothers closely from her lookout point. Romano didn't appreciate it, and Italy noticed his brother's displeasure.

"_Fratello_," he began softly, though it still managed to silence the entire room, "what's going-"

"_Lovinito_," Italy's sentence was cut off by Spain, who rushed up to his once-territory's side and clutched Romano to his chest fiercely, "you know I love you, right? You know that I'll always be there to help you if you're having temperament problems-"

"Shut up, bastard!"

"-so, don't take it out on other people, okay?" Spain begged unabashedly, holding on to the Italian brother despite Romano's violent attempts to thrash away. He pinned the flailing arms to Romano's side with unexpected strength and looked at him with his piercing green eyes. "You don't have to suffer alone . . . or make people you love suffer."

"I said _shut up,_ jackass," Romano spat venomously, hazel eyes narrowing dangerously and assuring Spain that he _did_ understand the entendre of his words. "There _is nothing _wrong. Why don't you ask Veneziano?"

If it weren't for the undisputable silence that hung like a knife in the air, the fervent whisper of, '_manipulative bastard,_' wouldn't have rung so clearly in the room. The accusation sent Romano to his feet and Italy staring disbelievingly at what he had previously assumed the murky faces of friends. People he could trust. He may have seemed ditsy, but it was obvious to even him the disapproval the nations radiated.

"Which one of you son of a bitches said that?" the hot-tempered Italian demanded. His challenge was met with critical glares from nearly every nation in the room and a long silence. No longer able to take the examination, Romano stormed from the room and left his brother at the mercy of the mob.

"Lovi!" A hundred disgusted frowns, another hundred pitying ones. "Lovi! Come back!"

The younger Italy tried to run after his brother's disappearing form, but Hungary's firm hand on his shoulder guided him back to his seat. "Don't worry, sweetie, we're all here for you."

With tears in his eyes, Italy cried, "I have to get to Lovi! He needs me!"

Hungary's stern shake of the head told him he wouldn't be leaving the room any time soon. She smiled simply and collected the younger Italian, the more loved Italian, in her arms. She petted Italy's hair lovingly as he cried painfully and the room watched piteously, some nations bravely venturing forward to assist in calming the Italian. "Don't worry," she cooed with the gentleness of a mother. "You don't need Romano - you have us."

Italy begged to differ.

- - - - - - - - - - - - \ \ - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Lovi! _Lovi!_"

Romano looked up from his perch on the eastern windowsilland caught sight of Italy dashing toward him frantically. Italy jumped into his brother's limp arms, crying silently and relishing the solid feel of Romano against him. "Why did you leave? It was horrible in there, alone."

The older brother suddenly bristled, forcing Italy's face up as he spoke. "What did they do to you? Damn it, I shouldn't have left you - that was stupid of me."

Italy wore a ghost of his exuberant smile, just as his brother carried a ghost of his overly protective disposition. He leaned forward and nuzzled Romano's exposed neck, breathing and feeling safe right in his arms. "Don't worry," he assured, repeating Hungary's earlier words that had meant nothing to him then, "I'm okay . . . But I don't understand."

"Understand what?" Romano muttered into his hair, running his fingers through the brunette locks.

"Hungary kept asking me to tell her the truth about us. And I know you didn't want anyone to know, but I was scared a-and I told her that we were together," Italy admitted, looking down meekly as he continued. "But, she said that I could tell her the truth and that I don't need to hide anything from her and the rest of my friends . . . Lovi, why wouldn't they believe me? Why are they being so mean to us?"

Italy felt his brother freeze, his hand stopping halfway through his hair. The hand dropped and another arm wound around his frame. "Just promise me . . . you won't listen to what they say. It's not true."

The less experienced Italian peered at Romano's cloudy expression curiously. "But I want to know."

"No you don't."

"But Lovi!" the Italian brother whined. "I want to-"

"They thought I was forcing you into this!" There was more to the issue, other silent codes of society they had broken and other taboos they had committed, but Romano didn't voice them. He was selfish, and he needed to keep his brother by his side even if it meant stretching the truth. Though, it wasn't by much. "Poland saw us, and he told everyone else. Those bastards only thought the worst of me. I knew it was going to happen - I know how much everyone hates me-"

"No they don't!" Italy insisted loudly. His brother finally met his eyes. "They can't hate you! And, even if they did, I still love you, Lovi. Doesn't that matter at all? _Siamo fratelli?"_

Romano stared at him with hollow and lonely eyes, and Italy wished that he could somehow fill them with his love - their love. He'd try, of course, as he repeated the question. "_Siamo fratelli?"_

_" . . . Sí."_ His brother, in-bred with the instinct of self-preservation and introversion, didn't smile, but there was a flicker of life in his hazel orbs. Italy knew he could do better than that.

Already forgetting their earlier dilemmas, the younger of the Italian brothers jumped forward and guided his lips against Romano's familiar ones, giggling blissfully into the kiss. It took a second longer for the other to respond, but he did, eagerly. Italy immediately pulled back and scanned Romano's face for more signs of vitality. He found it settling on the other's cheeks as a healthy flush and sparkling in his golden-brown eyes.

As if it were the last time Italy would ever be able to, he kissed his brother again.


End file.
